Archives: Wild West’n

Happy Birthday

Weston: “What can I get you for your birthday?”

Claire: “Win the first game of the tournament, and that will be my present.”

Weston: “OK, and I’ll lose the second so you don’t have to stay for another game.”

(They won all three anyway.)

Wild West'n

Where are your pants?

Weston wears shorts all year, and has never experienced weather cold enough to merit pants in his mind. This was painful to watch on our recent trip to London. Some days were much too cold for shorts — at least for any of the other 8.5 million people in London — but Weston didn’t care.

We walked by a stand that sold FC Barcelona hats. I told Weston I would buy him a hat if he agreed to wear pants the next day. We then went into our regular back-and-forth about why, at times, he should wear pants. The man selling us the hat had a bemused look on his face, and I realized that “pants” in England means “underwear.” I was trying to bribe my son to wear underwear, which is only slightly less bizarre than trying to bribe him to wear “trousers.”

Wild West'n

Wavey Wavey

We were talking about our plans for the day. Harper said she was excited for one particular activity, which was not yet a fixed part of the plan. Harper often does this as a way to ensure that decisions are made in her favor. Weston attempted to manage her expectations and said that the activity — I don’t remember what it was, or I would be able to use fewer pronouns to talk about it — was “wavey-wavey”. I asked Weston what he meant, and he said, “You know, wavey wavey,” rocking (or waving) his hand back and forth, the common gesture to imply uncertainty. Just in case it turns into a common phrase, I want to be sure Weston gets credit.

drunken midgets Hardy Har Har-per Wild West'n

Bizarre Pinewood Derby Car

weston-boxing-deranged

It was 7pm (2-3 hours to my bedtime), and the cars needed to be completed and weighed the next day. I was going to be busy at work the day of the deadline, so there was no way to further procrastinate. I had three hours.

A few weeks earlier, Weston and I had watched Rocky IV in a hotel during a mini family vacation. Weston’s description of what he wanted was basically a supine Rocky figurine with wheels. I decided that etching Weston’s photo, posing as his favorite pugilist, would be a quick and easy solution. Although he was constantly bouncing around the house as though he was in a championship fight for the title, I don’t think he practiced any of his faces in front of a mirror. He either looked too happy, too sad (like he was losing and wanted to cry), or just completely deranged. We took about 30 photos before getting one I thought would work…then decided to use a deranged photo instead — just because it was funnier.

After etching his photo onto the car, I realized the deranged photo didn’t show his arms. Thinking Weston would be disappointed with a boxing car that doesn’t have arms with which to box, we looked through all of the toys to find some arms that might work. We nailed some arms to the block, so we could still rotate them as though Weston was swinging. In a very strange way, the arms matched Weston’s expression and his face didn’t seem any more deranged than the expressions Rocky makes during the big fights.
eye-of-the-tiger

drunken midgets Wild West'n

The Birds

the-birds Weston drew some pretty rad birds.

Art drunken midgets Wild West'n

Transformers

weston-running
The boys and I started watching the original Transformers cartoon before bed recently. Weston and Conrad are transfixed. Weston takes notes, recording all of their names and attributes, though I don’t recognize any of the names he’s written down so far. He has been singing his own interpretation of the theme song, “Transformers: more-da-me-see-eye!” Claire heard it and added, “Robots in da sky!” I tried to correct Weston, but he gave me a skeptical look — then continued as if my suggestion made no sense at all.

drunken midgets Wild West'n

Essay Contest

Weston’s class was asked to write an essay about a school rule they would like to change. This was Weston’s submission…

Art drunken midgets Wild West'n

Sensei Weston


Weston has started his own karate class. Conrad and Shauna are his pupils and he shows them no mercy.

Wild West'n

Neutrogena

We were watching something on hulu and a Neutrogena commercial came on. Then it came on again. And again. And again. I could never understand why they play the same commercial over and over.

We take advantage of the break to tease each other, tickle each other, or just talk. Well, this time, Weston shushed us all and watched the Neutrogena commercial with great interest. I asked him if he wanted me to buy him some Neutrogena and he said, “Well, I do want to get rid of my wrinkles.”

Weston is six years old. I guess repetition works — yikes.

drunken midgets Wild West'n

He means it.

Weston woke up and came stumbling into our room. He said, “Where is Julia? I mean it!” Claire and I didn’t know what to say, so we stared at him blankly. He got frustrated, turned around, and went back to bed.

Your guess is as good as mine.

drunken midgets Wild West'n